Yesterday's Gone
by HappilyEverAfter7
Summary: He was gone, he was past me, and I honestly thought I was past him, too. But in the end, I realized I never was. It took falling in love all over again to see that I had never moved on. AU.


Look who's back! :) Well, damn, it's been a year, hasn't it? Much longer break than expected. (Supposed to be 2 months, right? Eek.) But here I am, all cleaned up and ready to write.

_Yesterday's Gone _is one of about three multi-chapter fics that will be posted (hopefully) by summer. I am very excited for this story. The next chapter should be out in about three to four weeks. It won't be as long as this chapter, but it will be decent sized. On a side note, I will be replying to each and every review I receive. So if you review, you will be getting a little note from me. And please, to anyone reading this author's note, if you do proceed to read this chapter, please review. I lot of thought and effort and struggle has been poured into this story and it would mean to the world to me to see what other people think of it.

_Italics _are flashbacks. And this story is AU.

Oh, and my beta, _Autumn Cullen._ is amazing. She's a superbeta. And awesome. Thank you so much, girl :).

.kate(:

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Edward isn't mine. Jacob isn't mine. Bella isn't mine. I also do not own that (quite brilliant, in my opinion) quote at the beginning of this chapter. All I get is Ethan, Anna, Erin, Jennifer and Brian. And _Yesterday's Gone's _plot. Naturally.

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**Chapter One -**

**Crossroads**

**BPOV**

_"Love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time: effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end." - Madame de Stael_

I sat at the cherry oak dining table, staring vacantly at nothing in particular. Around me the innocent voices of Ethan and Anna echoed ubiquitously and the low, subtle laugh of my husband floated through the room, though I could hardly hear either one. My thoughts were not in the room at all; they had wondered far.

"Momma!" Ethan squeaked, his unusually shrill voice startling me. My mind and body abruptly became simultaneous once again, the hazy mist behind my eyes vanishing. I blinked then looked at my son.

"Ethan, please," Edward chided. "Don't shout at the dinner table."

I smiled softly at Edward, and he returned it immediately, his eyes managing to pierce through mine with nothing but a fleeting glance. I turned back toward Ethan, who was showing off his radiant grin, missing of several teeth. "What is it, babe?" I asked him.

"May I be excused?"

"Did that question institute a shriek?" Edward broke in.

"Sorry," he said measly. Ethan looked up at me, his eyes pleading.

My tone was gentle, "Yes you may, sweetie. Put your plate in the sink and go ahead on upstairs, we'll be right up." He smiled at me, and took his plate into his hands, trotting off toward the kitchen. I heard his little feet pattering on the stairs as he made his way up to his bedroom. Ethan had just turned seven. We had affectionately called him "Bear" since birth, but no one seems to know where the nickname had originated. He was a very energetic, fun-loving boy. He was, at that point in his life, obsessed with all things cars, which Edward particularly enjoyed because he was quite the car enthusiast himself. "Edward, honey, make sure he's getting into his pajamas, could you? I'll handle Anna tonight."

Edward stood up, and kissed me quickly on the lips. "Of course, love."

_Thank you, _I mouthed. I turned toward Anna, who was finishing the last of her meal. She looked up at me, a thin spaghetti noodle dangling out between her lips. I stood up, giggling at her as she slurped the strand of pasta into her mouth and grinned up at me. I stroked my hand over her head softly and said, "Anna banana, let's get you into bed, 'Kay?" I held my hand out toward her, and she took it, stepping down off of her chair. We walked into the kitchen. "Okay, go on upstairs. Can you get into your jammies for me, please? Momma is going to clean up dinner, but I'll be right up." I kissed her forehead and smiled as she bolted up the stairs. As I walked back into the dining room, I sighed, looking at the mess of a table that had been left for me to clear. I breathed in through my nose, and proceeded to pick up the marinara coated dishware.

I switched the sink's faucet on, and clear water began to stream steadily through the nozzle. I scrubbed the dishes vigorously, my mind wandering off again.

_I remember that it was the most perfect of days. Aside from the rigid temperature of the autumn day, everything was immaculate. The vivid leaves freshly fallen upon the walkways of the park, the cloudless sky, the sereneness of the calm lake that stretched on and on, the multitudinous people dispersed amongst the park with their dogs, children, and loved ones, the melodic sound of singing birds, the soft whirr of insects dancing about near the lake, and the ducks floating placidly on the water…_

_I ambled through the park aimlessly, going nowhere at all, taking in the fresh, pure scent that lingered around the lakes of the park. I came to a weathered wooden bench, hidden underneath a large Cypress that shaded it from the late morning sun. I sat down, pulled my bag onto my lap and dug through it. The previous night, I had found my old journal hidden behind a bookcase. It had been missing for months. I used to write all my stories in it. It was special to me. It was a Christmas gift from my mom when I was seventeen. The journal was nothing special. It was brown, with a little yellow flower in the right hand corner. But after she died that following February, I never could put it down. _

_Central Park was one of my favorite places in the city. It was one of the few locations that could give me inspiration to write. But I couldn't visit often, school and work kept me knit close to home, I never found the time to escape. _

_I loved to write. It had been a very unwavering hobby since I was young. Ballet faded. Piano faded. Writing, never. It was the one thing that stayed constant in my life. When I was being yanked between Charlie and Renee, my characters, my stories, my worlds, they stayed the same. That's what I loved about it. And you could make it anything you wanted _— _a story about something that could never happen in reality, like celestial beings taking over Earth. Or a piece about a lonely teenager who gets her heart broken by the boy she loved most in the world. Everything was entirely moldable. If you didn't like where the plot was going, you could just change its direction. I wish real life worked that same way. _

"_Are you a writer?" a man inquired, his tone curious. His voice was velvety and gentle, yet maintained a sturdy sense of dominance. I shifted my eyes up to look at him. I hadn't even been aware he had approached._

"_I guess. Who are you?" I replied, somewhat frazzled. _

_He was gorgeous. _

_Absolutely stunning. _

_I found myself staring. His eyes were soft; a brilliant shade of green. The contours of his face were sharp, his cheekbones high. His hair was a deep reddish brown with intermittent strands of gold hidden among it. It was disheveled and unruly, but there was a certain edge to it that I liked. As he looked at me, a half smile played on his lips, and I couldn't help but to smile back at him._

_Awe quickly turned to absolute embarrassment. I had put no makeup on that morning, my hair was in a tousled bun, and I was in sweatpants and a plain tee shirt. _

_He sat down on the bench beside me, his same crooked smile never retreating. "I'm sorry," he said, pushing his hand toward me, "I'm Edward Masen." I met his hand, and shook it firmly. "Do you have a name?". _

_Well, yes, I do. "Um, Bella," I breathed hesitantly. I scribbled down the last of a sentence I had been working on, looked up at him, and smiled. "So…_Mister Masen_, do you come to parks often on Tuesdays trying to pick up girls?"_

_He chuckled, grinning, and mockingly pondered. "Not only Tuesdays." He pointed toward my notebook, "Do you mind if I take a look?"_

"_Sure, sure," I said, my words a slur as I pushed it into his hands. "Great, actually. My friends are biased, you know? They're kind of obligated to love it," I laughed. I was starting to babble, but caught myself. He chuckled slightly, and then began reading intently. _Goddamn lucky notebook, _I thought to myself. As he read, I studied his face. He smiled occasionally, and his face serious at other parts._

"_You're incredible," he finally whispered, handing the journal back to me. "Your writing, I mean. It's amazing." My cheeks became flushed._

"_I beg to differ, but thank you."_

"_Trust me. I wouldn't lie," he smiled. Then as if suddenly a light bulb had gone off inside his head, he asked me, "You wouldn't happen to know the time, would you?"_

"_Yes." I looked at the silver plated watch on my wrist, a Christmas gift from an old friend. I never could bring myself to take it off. It had become part of me; melded forever to my wrist. "It's almost eleven thirty."_

"_My apologies, I am meeting someone at noon." Something twisted inside of me. Of course he had a girlfriend. Just look at him. Why would a man like _that _be single? _

"_Oh," was all I managed to choke out._

"_A job interview," he clarified, and I let out the breath that I didn't know I had been holding. "Tell you what, how does coffee sound? Tomorrow morning," he offered smoothly. _

_My stomach leaped and I grinned at him. "Coffee…coffee sounds great. Where at?"_

"_Pete's coffee, just up the road. You know it?" I nodded weakly. _I had never heard of it. _"Is ten o' clock alright?"_

_I must have said yes, but I don't remember. He turned away after that, and started walking down the leaf veiled path that bordered the lough. Was I…going on a date? It was sort of a date._

"_Sort of a date," I whispered after Edward had left ear shot. "Okay," I breathed reassuringly to myself. "Okay."_

The present snagged onto me, and I sighed at the opaque memory. Edward came from behind me, setting his hands on my hips. I switched the water off, and spun around in his arms. I looked up at him, and the smile that shone in his eyes flickered away. "Are you alright?" he asked uneasily.

"I'm fine," I responded, trying to keep a nonchalant tone. I started to turn back around toward the sink, but Edward caught me and held me in a gentle embrace. He set his lips to my temple.

"It sure doesn't seem that way, Babe," he whispered against my skin. I could feel his warm breath sweep over my forehead.

"I was just thinking."

"Hmm? About what?"

"Central Park," I said carefully.

"What, when we met?" he asked, but I wasn't sure why his mind had immediately jumped to that. I sniffed and nodded charily. "Why did that make you sad?" I looked up at him and his eyebrows were furrowed in genuine curiosity.

"It didn't. I just…I miss how things used to be with me and you, you know? Drinking 'til we couldn't stand up, sex whenever we wanted, staying out all night. Life used to be fun," I said, tracing circles on his chest through his thin cotton shirt.

"It seems like a million years ago," he sighed.

"Doesn't it?" I stared at him for a moment. "Are you okay? You seem tense."

His voice was grave as he murmured, "You trust me, right?" Our conversation took a complete one-eighty then. He was staring intently at the russet stone flooring of the kitchen. "I need you to be understanding and try to see why I'm doing this." His words ran together in a fretful whirr and he was very quiet. An apprehensive chill crept through me as his words sunk in. What he was he talking about?

My shoulders dropped, and I sighed. "Of course I trust you. And I love you," I reassured him. But he knew that already.

He looked me, and winced, immediately fixating his gaze on the floor again. "I love you, too. So much, Bella." His voice was shaky and fragmented. "But," he started, "that only makes this more difficult. I am not trying to hurt you, or the kids. I just—" He stopped. He was uncharacteristically nervous, and proving very difficult to decode.

"Edward, honey, please. What is it?" I was trying to hide the growing knot of anxiety in me as best as I could, but my impatience was mounting.

"About a year ago, I applied for a rescue swimmer training program."

"What is it that? Like a lifeguard?"

"No. It's—" He paused again. "Bella, it's basically a Coast Guard training course."

I was confused. "Am I missing something?" I asked, hoisting myself up to sit on the countertop.

He sighed, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "I never told you that I applied, because I knew that you would have been angry with me. I never even thought I would get in—"

"You got in?"

He nodded a cautious nod, still evading eye contact, and continued with what he was saying. "Bella," he said lowly. "I leave for North Carolina in a week."

I let that set in, and I suddenly wanted to scream and shout all the obscenities I knew in his face. But I didn't. "Well, how long is this program thing?"

He rubbed his hand from his forehead to the bottom of his jaw line. "Seventeen weeks."

All the oxygen escaped my lungs, and a lump rose in my throat, giving me the urge to break down and cry. I quickly did the math in my head. "You're _leaving _for _four months_?" I thought aloud.

Unshed tears collected in my eyes, and I clenched them shut, willing the tears not to fall. "Why are you doing this now?" I choked shakily. "You have a family, people who care about you." My words were nearly incoherent with the wobbliness of my voice.

"For the past nine years," he began seriously, "you have come first. Anna and Ethan and _you _have _always_ come first."

"Then what the hell makes this time different?"

"Please let me finish. I'm thirty years old, I'm not the resilient young guy I used to be. After Anna was born, I started thinking about what I want to do, my dreams. I spent months researching and weighing different options. The military, the navy, the marines. Emmett's cousin is attending the U.S. Coast Guard Academy up in Connecticut and I started to become interested in the idea. This is what I want to do. For me. For once, Bella, please, let me do something for _myself." _He looked at me, trying to somehow gauge my reaction. I didn't let him.

"But you have to understand, this isn't because I want to hurt you. I mean, I would never, ever intentionally do something to hurt you. This isn't because I'm not happy. I am. I have two beautiful, intelligent children and a drop-dead gorgeous wife that by some grand twist of fate, I cancall my own. This isn't some mid life crisis. This is me figuring out what I want. I've given up a lot. I want to get my priorities straight."

"Bear and Anna should be your priority. Always. No matter what."

"They are."

"No. The moment you leave is the moment that they aren't your number one priority anymore. They need you here with them, Edward. What am I going to tell Ethan when Daddy isn't here to take him to the park to practice throwing the baseball, like you do every Sunday? What do I tell your four year old daughterwhen she wants Dad to sing her to sleep, or give her a kiss goodnight? You'll break their poor little hearts, and for what? Four months in North Carolina at some facility? That's really what you want? This selfish itch that you feel some bizarre need to scratch is starting to show me the man I have always known you were, but I never let myself see."

"Oh, and what kind of man is that?" His voice seemed agitated.

"A man that puts himself before others. For years I've blocked that part of you out. But now it's staring me square in the face and it's not like I can ignore it."

"Bella, this is a _job. _A career. Just like you have a career as a columnist at the goddamn New York Times. Get off the mindset that this is going to be fun, like a vacation. It's a grueling regimen, and there are no breaks."

The tears pooled over and ran down my cheeks. "Just stop. I can't hear anymore."

Edward looked at me for a moment, then stepped forward, and hugged me. I tried to push him away, but quickly decided it was pointless to try to fight him. Still sitting on the counter, I wrapped my legs around his waist and cried into his shoulder. He whispered, "I'm sorry," so low that I barely heard it. It only made me cry into him harder.

_Beginning: The point in time or space at which something starts, comes into existence or is first encountered. _

_The thing about beginnings is when you are experiencing them, you never recognize them. Only when you look back on your past-self do you realize. And at the time, I hadn't a clue that my seemingly going-nowhere, lust-driven coffee date with the exact type of man I never thought would have shown any interest in me, was a beginning. _

_I never understood why he had asked me out that pervious morning. Why would a guy like him ever want to be with a girl like me? My feet were too big. I would wear sweats twenty-four seven. My hair was always an utter disaster. I lived off frozen meals. And I was an absolute bookworm who would rather spend my Saturday at the public library than shopping at the mall, or hitting the cinema with girlfriends. Hell, _I _wouldn't want that. _

_I sunk down into my old secondhand couch, and the uneven cushions swelled on either side of me. I desperately needed new furniture. _

_I was supposed to meet him at Pete's in an hour. An _entire _hour. Damn. I had waken up much too early that morning, but for good reason. I made sure my hair was nice, and curled perfectly. That my clothes were attractive, but not overly flashy. It was, after all, a coffee shop at ten in the morning, not some slutty nightclub at midnight. I was wearing a soft green cardigan over a white camisole, and dark wash blue jeans. A conservative silver necklace hung around my neck, and jade earrings dangled from my earlobes. My ensemble was quite a substantial upgrade from the pair of black sweatpants and a gray tee shirt I had been wearing the previous day._

_I snatched a quick peek in the mirror as I slid out the door. The frigid fall air swirled past me as I walked through the front door of the apartment building, causing a tremor of chills to creep up my back. I hailed a taxi quite inelegantly, and climbed inside. During the short trip, I inwardly gave myself a pep talk. However, it truly only consisted of "Don't fuck up!" screamed repeatedly in my head. _

_I smiled as I spotted the big maroon lettering, "Pete's Coffee" across the road, and told the driver to stop. _

_As I crossed the street, approaching the old-fashioned coffee shop, I spotted Edward sitting just inside the large window in front. And even though cars and pedestrians sped tenaciously by, he looked so _peaceful. _I envied him for that._

_I drew a deep breath, and slowly opened the door, little silver bells clinking against the glass. Edward immediately stood up and greeted me, "Good morning." He pulled the other chair out for me and I took my seat._

"_Good morning," I responded quietly. The shop was timeworn, but very quaint and cute. The green, flowery wallpaper was threadbare, but it fit the vintage atmosphere quite well. Old paintings hung erratically on the walls, and the flooring was a polished, brown cement. The abundance of flowers dispersed about the coffee house gave it a sweet, fresh aroma. It smelled like a mix of a newly baked berry pie and delectable vanilla. Very pleasant. Despite it's old-world shell, it had a very clean, relaxed ambiance. Peace seemed to appear everywhere. In the faces of the employees, on the dusty books, and in the crisp, freshly brewed coffee._

"_Can I get you anything?" he offered._

_I glanced quickly at the menu that hung above the baristas at the counter. "I can get it, no worries_—_" _

_He smiled warmly and said courteously, "Please, allow me."_

"_A hazelnut latte, then. Please." He proceeded toward the counter and the female barista stared at him in complete marvel as he walked toward her. Hell, I couldn't blame the gal. He was positively stunning._

"_Here you are," he said kindly, setting the cup in front of me. He took his seat and smiled at me. "So um, _Ms. Swan_, do you often have coffee with men on Wednesdays?" he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips._

_I didn't get it at first, but then it clicked. The day before at the park, I'd recited a similar sentence. "Not _only _Wednesdays," I replied impishly, taking a sip of my coffee. _

_He pursed his lips, a smile evident in his eyes. "Can I ask you a question?"_

"_Of course."_

"_Yesterday, when I asked if you were a writer, you never gave me a real answer."_

"_Well, umm, I'm a student at NYU, earning my journalism major." My voice was hesitant, though I hadn't wanted it to be. I thought back to the taxi: my little pep talk. _Bella, this is the exact definition of _fucking up, _get your act together. _"And I write stories and poems in my free time. So, yeah, you could call me a writer. But I haven't published."_

"_Will you?" He was genuinely interested, which was both a revelation and complete relief at the same time._

"_I don't know. Hopefully. I've always wanted to," I mused. I don't know if I was talking more to Edward or myself._

_He didn't respond at first, and I started to get nervous. Had I said something wrong?_

"_You should," he said finally, fingering the empty yellow packet of sugar on the table. Really. You're excellent. The detail and imagery, it's immaculate and so eloquent."_

_I couldn't tell if he was teasing. No one had ever enjoyed my writing that much. Or maybe he was just nice. Really, really nice. _

We were quietly disturbed then. "Momma?" Anna yawned innocently. I pushed myself away from Edward, and squatted down so that I was eye level with her. "Annie, go get into bed, alright? Mommy will be up in two minutes. I promise."

"Can I have some milk?" I saw her eyes shift quickly from me to Edward, and then back.

"Of course. I'll bring it to you. Go on upstairs." She turned and trotted up the staircase.

"Edward, I…I have my children to take care of," I stuttered. I winced and set my right hand loosely over my lips. "I just don't know what to say to you right now. Goodnight."

Still reeling from the shock of what Edward had told me, I coaxed Anna's door open. The corners of her lips raised a bit as I handed her the glass of milk. She sat on the edge of her bed and gulped her beverage. "Careful not to spill, babe," I cautioned, and she nodded happily. She finished and set the empty cup on the wooden nightstand beside her bed. "Time for bed, Munchkin. I'll tuck you in." She threw her small legs onto the bed, and slipped the blankets partially over herself. I kissed her forehead softly as I pulled the comforter over her shoulders, forcing a somewhat convincible smile.

"Goodnight, Princess. Love you." I flicked my finger over her light switch, turning out the soft glow that was cast over her room and made my way to the other end of the hallway to Ethan's bedroom. The light was off, and his door was shut. I cracked the door open, letting a line of light slink in, and peeked my head inside. "Bear?"

"Momma?" he whispered coarsely.

"Just wanted to say goodnight, buddy. I love you." My voice was just as soft as his had been. I shut the door carefully, and spun around, frightened by Edward who was standing behind me.

"I love you," he muttered impassively.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

"Right now, yes," he responded hurriedly, his tone still thick with woodenness.

"Bastard."

_There were three quick raps on my door. My stomach lurched, and I grinned as I walked toward the door. _

_His eyes were the first thing to capture my attention. They were so warm and genial. His emerald irises contrasted beautifully against his light skin. A grin flashed across his face the instant he saw me, and that set aflutter my heart. He had one of the most stunning smiles I had ever seen. The way his lips formed a perfect curve, creating a mellow beam, it made you want to smile right back up at him._

"_Good evening," he said graciously, handing me a bouquet of deep crimson roses. I grabbed them awkwardly, and beckoned him into my tiny apartment. _

_The foyer, well, it wasn't a foyer. It was a three foot hallway with a diminutive coat closest off to the right. After walking in, nearly immediately to the left was the only bedroom's door. Straight ahead from the front door was the living room and kitchen. My apartment was blandly furnished and the walls were a lifeless dull crème color. I couldn't afford much, any money I earned at work went directly to rent, bills, food, college expenses, and other necessities. _

_We walked silently into the kitchen, I don't think that either of knew what to say. I gently set the flowers down on the countertop. _

"_Thanks for the roses," I said bashfully. "They're gorgeous."_

So are you, _he mouthed, but I don't think he knew I saw it. All the blood rushed to my cheeks, and I turned away from him, my lips raising, forming an electrified grin. I began digging through my cabinets, finally locating a vase. I filled it with cool water, unwrapped the stems from their plastic wrapping, and set the flowers carefully inside._

_We began talking about mundane topics, school and work. It was awkward, which took me aback because the past few times we had seen each other it was quite the opposite. Our conversations had been very natural and flowing._

"_Would you like to something to drink?"_

_He joked with a smirk, "Grand Marnier."_

"_Oh, bummer, I finished the bottle up last night," I teased back._

_He smiled at me. "How about red wine?"_

"_Is Silver Oak okay?"_

_He seemed surprised. "Do you normally have one hundred dollar bottles of wine laying around?" I was surprised too: The man knew his wine. I tugged a drawer open, and pulled out the wine opener, removing the seal and cork._

_I laughed. "I bought it a while back. Just in case," I said, grabbing two wineglasses from the top of a cupboard. I didn't take them out much, special occasions only. I never had a reason to use them. I didn't have a boyfriend, I didn't have a family, I barely even had friends. A bit of dust had collected on the outside and rim of the glasses, and I wiped them inconspicuously with a cloth. _

"_In case of what?" he asked smoothly. I poured the deep burgundy liquid into each of our glasses, and handed him his. _

"_In case I happened to meet," I spoke, clinking our wineglasses together in a toast, "an incredible man I wanted to share it with." I smiled widely at him, triumphantly congratulating myself inwardly for thinking of that line so promptly._

"_Here's to us."_

"_Us," I agreed softly. "Would you like to head to the living room? We can get more comfortable." _Comfortable _wasn't the appropriate word to use. _Comfortable _seemed to insinuate something sensual. Not that I would have minded the_ _sensuality, but still, it was only our fourth date. Sure, we had kissed, but it hadn't yet been taken further than that. Sex hadn't been brought up yet in any way, but he was male, and he was interested in me, so I knew he'd been thinking about it. And to be perfectly honest, I had been too._

"_Of course." I really wanted to tell him loosen up; his words and actions dripped with tension, but I couldn't figure out why._

_We strolled lazily into the living room. It was seven o' clock and dusk hung heavily in the air. The lights were low, and a soft melody hummed in the background. I sat down on the love seat, and placed my glass on the coffee table. Edward tautly followed suit. _

_We chatted and laughed about casual subjects. Neither of us were good at small talk. It was something that we had in common. _

_Edward took a sip of wine and smiled warmly at me. Trying fruitlessly to be subtle, he traced his fingers over my hands as we spoke. Words fell out of my mouth, but I didn't know what I was saying. I was concentrated on the fact that _his _hands were on _mine.

_A minute later, he swept his hand over my watch. "You're always wearing this," he noted, interrupting himself. _

"_I…I'm sorry." I pulled my hand away from his touch, and shrouded the watch with my right hand. _

"_Why are you apologizing? I was just curious." _

"_It was a gift." I paused. "From a friend."_

"_Oh, umm, Alice?" he guessed. It was a solid postulation; I'd told him about my closest friend, Alice the last time we'd seen each other._

_I didn't know what to do. That watch had a story behind it._ _And it was big. What if he reacted horribly? What if he saw me differently because of it? On the other hand, maybe he would be perfectly fine with it. I was being forced to make a brash decision._

_I looked at him, and his eyes urged me to answer._

_I hated thinking quickly._

_I also hated lying._

"_No. My ex fiancé," I murmured._

_His eyes looked as if they were going to fall out of his head. "You were _engaged?"

"_Mmhmm," I replied, suddenly self conscious. It sounded different being thrown back in my face like that. He made the word "engaged" seem ghastly. But it wasn't. It represented a promise of marriage. And that, I believe, made the word utterly beautiful._

_He took another sip of wine, and looked at me hesitantly. "What happened?"_

_I wasn't sure how to answer that. There wasn't really a definite answer. One day Jacob was just gone._

"_I don't know," I breathed. I peeled my eyes from his gaze, and set my hand palm up on his knee. He placed his hand there, and his fingers locked around mine. I met his eyes again. "Maybe I just wasn't good enough, you know?"_

_He lifted our intertwined hands, and kissed the back of mine. "You were good enough, Bella. Him… he was not._

I had met Jacob him a few months into my freshman year of college at NYU. We became good friends, spending every waking moment with each other. It eventually evolved into something more, and we ended up falling for each other. We were perfect together. Marriage and children had become a customary topic. Our dream was to be married at Roche Harbor on San Juan Island during the summertime. He wanted to start his own contracting business, and I wanted to stay home and raise our kids. We had planned our entire lives, and we were anxious to begin. Both of us were so happy together, and I truly believed that it was going to be like that for the rest of our lives.

He proposed on Christmas Eve, just days after we celebrated two years together. He got down on one knee and pulled the black velvet box out of his coat pocket. It was unoriginal and tacky, but I absolutely loved it. I said yes without a second thought. He slid the engagement ring onto my finger, and it felt as if I was flying.

Christmas day, he gave me the watch as a gift. It was made of glistening silver. Small diamonds were embedded in the band. Underneath the watch case, there were the tiny engraved words: "I love you." At the time, I believed that statement wholeheartedly. But the he day he left, several months after the proposal, I started to believe that was a lie. And when he walked out, I threw the ring at him and it landed in the grass. I never wanted to see that ring again. For whatever reason, I kept the watch. It was the only thing that I had left to remember him by. I never completely moved on. He was the first man I ever loved. Then he shattered me into a million pieces. And that wasn't fair. But that's just how the world turns.

Some part of me kept on loving him for a long time after he left me, and I don't know why. It had never made any sense; he was gone, he was past me, and I honestly thought I was past him, too. But in the end, I realized I never was. It took falling in love all over again to see that I had _never _moved on.

There wasn't a day that passed that I didn't think about him. That was the biggest thing Edward didn't know about me. I barely told him anything about Jacob. I had convinced myself if I did, he would see me differently, or stop loving me. I couldn't handle another heartbreak.

So, many years later, after marriage and children, Jacob Black was still sitting there in the back of my mind, waiting for me to cry for him again, and wish he hadn't left. Wish he had stayed and kept on loving me. Wish that my life had turned out differently. Married him. Raised kids with _him_.

I didn't want to think those thoughts. I was married to an incredible man, and birthed his two gorgeous children. It wasn't fair to them. My love was unswervingly theirs, and always would be, but no matter which way it could have been looked at, there was another man I was in love with, and had been for the past nine years.

And so for every 11:11 I hadn't missed, and for every shooting star I had seen surge through the inky sky, I had wished these simple words, "Tell me why he left."But lately I had been wishing something different, "Bring him back."

* * *

Well, what'd you think!? I am very excited to see what everyone's responses.

Let's make a deal. Every person who reviews this chapter before I post the second chapter will be mentioned in Chapter 2's author's note. :) There's a little incentive for ya. Haha.

Oh, and I have a blog. Check it out. It's dedicated to all things writing and FanFiction. There's updates, excerpts, among other things. The link is on my profile. I also have a twitter. /happilyevraftr7

Thanks for reading! Please review! :)


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